


The Stars Betray Us

by Arlyshawk



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Romance, mentions of preexisting relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4325799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlyshawk/pseuds/Arlyshawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the world begins to fall around them and secrets begin to reveal themselves, there are those that go searching for the answers. Warden Alistair And Andromeda Hawke, the ex-Champion of Kirkwall, set out to find both answers and the Inquisitor, who is the only one who holds the key to closing the Breach. And what started as fleeing into sanctuary to fleeing for their lives from demons, dragons, and Maker knows what else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Serpent Bearer

**Author's Note:**

> World State Note: In this world, both Alistair and Loghain exist together. Instead of Alistair being exiled or being executed, he was spared but sent to the Free Marches. Loghain thus stayed with Naerys, My Warden, and they worked the Fifth Blight.

“When he shall die,  
Take him and cut him out in little stars,  
And he will make the face of heaven so fine  
That all the world will be in love with night  
And pay no worship to the garish sun.” 

-Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_

She sits atop her horse, a champion of a war not meant to begin, as neat as folded sheet. She is stiff in the spine, fingers clenching around worn leather reins, though he can see it without so much as a sidelong glance. They ride for long stretches, sometimes days and nights at a time. It has been years since he last beheld Ferelden in all of its glory. The air is rich with a certain briskness and humidity that is not in the Free Marches, the hills are green up to the skirts of blue grey mountains and the skies roil with the thought of rain. 

Alistair couldn't be happier. 

They travel along the seashore of the Storm Coast, where a deluge catches them as soon as they descend into Storm's Solitude. Grass, mud, and gravel squish under his roan mare's hooves as they traverse peaks and valleys, droplets of crystal beading down the lip of his hood and into the slight crevasse between his gloves and his armor. The rain is like ice against bare skin and he grits his teeth. They stop in caves and as soon as his feet hit the cobblestones within - no doubt done by the dwarves by the master handiwork done - his blood roars alive with fire and barbs. They are under the ground, swarming, surging like the tides outside. His gut clenches, flip flops, and then knots itself before he hears the silent hush of Andromeda's blades slipping free from their sheathes. 

He looks up and she is gone, a shadow, a blink, a wraith hanging over your bed. He barely has time to unsheathe his sword and bring up his shield before a spider takes a lunge at him, fangs dripping with venom that glistens pale in the firelight. It hangs too close to his face, the spider's breath reeking of rotten meat. Ire makes him wrestle an arm free to wrangle the spider's head out of the way before Andromeda reveals herself in a puff of smoke and rends a leg off of the beast before skirting it and slicing its thorax. 

It shrieks and whirls on Andromeda, hissing. He rolls and cuts the creature's other legs with a sweep and listens to the distinct crackle of Hawke's blades crashing down into the spider's exoskeleton. It’s a grinding sound, like rocks scraping against one another. Andromeda comes away from the spider, covered from collar to waist in green goo. 

"There goes my nice jacket," Andromeda grumbles to herself and tries wiping it off. "Ugh, it stinks to high heaven!" 

Alistair pokes his head into a little doorway as Hawke hops up onto her horse and grabs the extra set of clothes. There are pillars the size of castle turrets, looming like dark figures in a mire. 

"What'd you find?" Andromeda enquires as she pulls on a grey tunic that's a little too long for her in the torso. She pulls her nut brown hair into a messy bun as he wanders into the vast cave. He will not deny being amazed by the vast bit of architecture the smooth lines that crest into chiseled runes and engravings. Andromeda looms near him, not too far and too close. "What _is_ this?" 

"Bit of dwarven engineering, looks like," Alistair replies, hands going over the lines and runes. They are cool and smooth under his bare hands. He watches Hawke out of the corner of his eye. She is like a cat, lean and graceful, porcelain skin shadowed by orange and amber flickers that made her truly appear the like creature she is. It surprises him still that she offered to take him to Crestwood to hide from the prying eyes of the Wardens. "We shouldn't be here, Andromeda." 

"Oh pish, I want to look around. You found it," She replies and goes further in. With a match, she lights the torch and he sees more runes come to life. Yet still, Alistair watches her. 

"Andy," He warns as she nears a hole. And to say that Andromeda is not curious is to say that fire isn't hot. She peeks at the area around it, touching it with the toe of her boot. " _Andromeda_ , get away from there!" 

Hawke backs up, hands raised, "All right, all right, touchy." Her crystal blue eyes turn on him. "You sense something?" 

Alistair nods, "And not just darkspawn." 

"Well… Fuck. There goes my fun and yours. I'll go keep watch for Wardens outside, get a rubbing of those runes," She strides out into the room and grabs a dagger from her belt. 

He blinks, "Why do you want a rubbing?" 

"Just get it, for Andraste's sake." 

Alistair sighs, fetches a scrap of paper out of his pack and then takes a bit of charcoal to begin rubbing down a few of the dwarven runes. They're barely there, etched but there. Time has worn them down into rough sketches of lines. As he rubs them with the bit of charcoal, his blood is singing within him, a crescendo there, a flat there. They are near, his brothers. Though, really they aren't _his_ brothers in arms. The ones he counts as brothers are Stroud, Bethany, those that work in the Free Marches and not near the Orlesian cesspool. There is a fire in his blood that snaps at him as he rises, folding the paper up, and returns to Andromeda. She looms in the mouth of the cave, arms crossed over her sternum and dagger gleaming wickedly in the firelight. 

"See anything?" Alistair comments as he tucks the charcoal away and the paper into Andromeda's pack. 

"Your Warden senses are bloody faulty, so no. Unless you count the sea a Warden," She quips back. "We should move. If we can make it the highlands before the tide comes in, we'll be far ahead of everyone." 

They mount up and leave the tiny little cave and the flame in his blood dies down. The swarms that filled his hearing is less, there is more of awkward stillness around him as they trot along the rocky shore. The rain still storm around them, the sea still ceases toward the sky with white crested waves that crash against the rocks in a flurry of mist and foam. There is a sort of calm, he finds as they make their way onto a ridge that is carved by water's masterful hands. He has not been home for nearly ten years after Naerys sentenced him to the Marcher Warden-Commander. He always counts himself lucky that it wasn't Orlais or anywhere too far. As it stands, there are whispers that Loghain is with the Orlesian Wardens. And that, is a rather quirky bit of humor. 

Alistair rides up alongside Andromeda, who is not using her reins to guide the horse and is playing with a pendant at her neck. Though he wishes not to stare he cannot help but notice a three dragon heads in the middle of a Circle of Magi symbol. He knows that symbol from somewhere. Even still, there mere sight of the pendant brings a longing to Andromeda's blue eyes. 

"Nice pendant," Alistair breaks the eerie silence between them. She jolts, focusing a steely glare on him. He turns his head away, "Sorry…" 

"Are you staring at me?" Outrage cracks her voice and there is darkening to her eyes that makes his heart drop into his belly. 

"I.. might've been," His voice is a croak. Andromeda is a fierce thing, he can see that much from the cuts on her arms and in the steel that she wears for a mask. "Where did you get it?" 

Disgust rises in her face. Without a word, she kicks her horse into a canter and leaves him in the dust. She is proud, stiff like a queen of a lost land. He cannot help but notice the feeling of wrongness in himself. Whatever he touched, he doesn't want to touch again. But he cannot help the familiarity in that pendant. Three dragon heads cresting over the top of a Circle of Magi symbol. 


	2. The Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A detour comes a long the way to the Frostbacks.

The rain lessens as they travel into the highlands of the coast and near West Hill, where they camp in a cave. Alistair hates these times when the night is so still it's painful. He manages to keep the whispers out of his ears by using his horse as a head rest, but tonight his horse isn't having anything to do with him. He tosses and turns most of the night, listening. There are whispers in his ears, just out of earshot. Round and round they, swirling up high and shrill and then they drop like an anvil so low it'd make his ribs resonate. 

He sits up and glances over at Andromeda. She is asleep in a blanket, snoring against the barrel belly of her horse. Alistair listens to the world around him; a voice of varying timbres croons in his ears that is soft. Outside, rain patters on flagstones and in the distance an owl hoots. 

"Andy?" Alistair asks to the darkness. He throws a twig at her, "Andromeda." 

"If this is about spiders again, I'm going to hurt you," Andromeda drawls, half asleep. He can see the outline of her mussed hair in the glow of the embers. "It's nothing, now go back to sleep or I'll make you." 

He throws aside his blanket, slips on his boots and stalks out into the rain. It is bitterly cold, sinking into his face like jaws. His heart drops into his belly when he hears the familiar call of someone, a voice all too familiar. __

_I will not suffer a man who thinks that killing another is justification for men and women who have a ticking clock within them._ The voice is adamant, stinging in the way that only steel could when it bites. Anger rushes to his head. It's intoxicating and demanding, crashing against the fragile bars of its cage. That is Naerys' voice. He knows it by the way it sounds like poisoned wine. Fists clench at his sides and he slams the thoughts away. Loghain had killed Duncan, surrendered him to death when he pulled his forces back. He goes back into the cave and bundles up in his blanket, trying to shut out the thought of Naerys' blindness to Loghain. 

But his dreams are nearly as demanding as his waking thoughts. He dreams of a dragon as black as shadow, neck sinuous, and eyes as bright as lanterns. This dragon is different from Urthemiel, he was stocky, this one is sleek is a silverfish. It peers at him with its curious eyes, blinking owlishly at him. It studies him, tries to make sense of what he is as he does the same. As it lifts its head, it begins to hum low in its throat. It’s a song he knows that starts deep in his bones, a mother's song that lulls him. He wants to sway to it, perhaps hum it if this dragon would let him. 

"Alistair!" Andromeda is nudging him with her boots. With a crack of the eye, he can see her worried expression, the clear lines of concern painting hues of crystalline blue in her eyes. He sits up and rubs his face where stubble is growing. He fixes a gaze on her, wondering what has her worried so - Andromeda simply isn't the type. "You were singing in your sleep." 

"Singing?" Alistair echoes, numbly touching his lips as if they would still ring with the memory. "Was it actual words..?" 

"You were singing a song about a tree, saying pretty dragon too," She touches his forehead with the back of her hand. "No, no fever." 

He doesn't want to admit what it _might_ be, or how it evens comes into existence with him. There are tales of a Warden's Calling coming in a span of ten years, but he thinks he might have more time than this. He stands too fast and his word spins but he ignores it. He needs to go to other Wardens, see what they hear. Andromeda has a sister, a younger sister… She might be able to tell him something. 

"You have a sister, don't you?" He enquires, turning all at once on Hawke, who jumps. "Your sister, where is she?" 

"In Montsimmard..? Why? We need to go to the Frostbacks, not Orlais," He doesn't hear her, he's all ready tacking his horse. "What has gotten into you?" 

He tests the belly straps, the cinches, the bridle, "I need to see something, something.. Something important." 

"Something so important we forget why we came here? To find out what was causing the Red Lyrium? Yes! That's always a good idea, divert attention!" He can almost see the sarcasm on her face. "What has gotten into you?" 

"Warden.. Things," Alistair pulls himself onto the back of his half asleep mare. "You said Bethany was sounding strange, correct?" 

Andromeda opens her mouth, then closes it, a befuddled look crossing her face, "Loony, actually." 

"Then we go to Montsimmard, no looking back. The Inquisition can wait, if they're as powerful as you say. Besides, I've found sources that say that your dwarf friend is off his nut." 

~.~.~ 

From West Hill, they break for Val Royeaux. 

It’s a treacherous ride from Ferelden to Orlais, there are too many Wardens skulking about - he feels them all the time - and he is too much of a target. A Marcher Warden seen in Orlais after the dispute against blood magic? No thick blooded Orlesian Warden would have it. Vaguely, Alistair thinks of what Loghain thinks of Clarel. There is no secret that he and Naerys loathe Orlesians, for all he knows it’s a shared hobby. 

The talk of blood magic at the meeting between Commanders of the Grey had been a rowdy one. Naerys and his commander, Grace Tallier, had grown rather vicious when it was proposed. Naerys had proclaimed it blasphemy for even thinking of using demons, much less blood magic, to stop the Old Gods. Grace had said it was foolish of Clarel to even think of reaching out to Tevinter. He still remembers the snarl to Naerys' face when Clarel stood proud against their slander; it was a curl of the lips, almost like the smile of an angry dog. And he knows Grace's telltale signs of wrath; her mouth becomes a line and there is a strange steel in her eyes. He doesn't want to think about that meeting. There are too many people he dislikes there, too many feelings that surfaced when he walked with Grace. 

"You hum nicely," Andromeda comments as they halt before the grand gates of Val Royeaux. "Whatever you do, don't sing." 

"I can't help it," Alistair replies as he slides down from his mare's back. "See now, I always thought I had such a lovely voice. I thought you'd love it." 

Andromeda fixes her hair, side eyeing him with a playing on her lips, "Smug bastard." 

"Thank you for pointing that out, Andy." 

She frowns up at the gate, "You want me to go in? I know we're all about avoiding things and all but Bethany might be here if there are Wardens everywhere." 

"And have me get spotted?" 

"Fine then, come with me." 

He shakes his head, "And there might be Wardens there too." 

She rolls her eyes at him, smacks him on the back of the head, "Come on, idiot." 

They find nothing in Val Royeaux as soon they arrive, save a few grumpy Orlesians that complain about their smell and sneer at his Fereldan accent. They make for Montsimmard then, cutting across the Heartlands and river that feeds into Lake Celestine. It's a hard ride, the horses are tired by the time they make it to the lake's edge where they can see the battlements of Montsimmard's fortress glimmer in the fading twilight. 

He sits close to the fire, drying his boots because of a small accident with the river. Short horses are not meant for rivers that are flooded with rain water. Fire surges toward the hazy sky in colors of amber and scarlet that reminds him that warmth is possible in a frozen land. Across from him, Andromeda fumbles with her knives. She dresses in her armor finally, the crimson stark against the jet black leather with claws that flash like teeth in the firelight. And against her armor, gleams the pendant that he remembers vaguely. 

_Three dragon heads cresting over the Circle of Magi_ , he says inwardly. 

"Your pendant… Where'd it come from?" Alistair enquires, keeping his voice low. 

She says nothing for a long while, silent. And he can tell she hears him for her fingers slip on her whetstone. A knotting forms in his belly as he watches her. Her eyes blink rapidly, as if to ward off tears that gleam in the light. Whatever he touches, he fears now. 

"Andy, I'm sorry," Alistair starts but can't finish because of the shaking of her shoulders. He crawls around the fire to sit beside her, letting her rest her head against his shoulder. Close like this, he can smell lavender, leather, and horse. "I'm sorry if I hit something sensitive." 

"No, it's all right," She sniffs, wiping her runny nose with the back of her hand and then scrubs her eyes. "Bethany always asks about it now, after… after he died. How I got it, why I had it. Figures you'd be curious too." 

He wraps an arm around her shoulders, "Who's was it?" 

"I made it for Orsino, the First Enchanter of the Kirkwall Circle. I..I was in love with him for years until he got desperate. The fool…" There is a ruefulness to her voice that makes it quaver. Tears run down her cheeks, twinkling on her chin and into her lap. "Isabela tried to make the pain go away, and don't get me wrong. I love Bela, but she can't… Never will." 

"Did he die with it around his neck?' Andromeda curls up next to him, pressing her face against his shoulder. He can feel her tremble with shaky breaths that are stifled by tears and sniffs. 

"He gave it back to me before I went to the Gallows," She grows hysterical in an instant, faster than a knife through the ribs and all he can manage is to hold her and let her scream into his body. "I should've done something! Stupid, stupid!" 

His hands run down her spine. She is fragile in his arms, unlike the strong willed Lady Hawke that he knows best. This is foreign to him, his mind reels and tries to find a solution but there is nothing. He draws blanks each time he thinks of something to say or do, but… The tragedy is so furious within her that he dares not rise to take wing. First Enchanter Orsino is a man he remembers without so much as a mental hiccup. He was a city elf, silver haired and emerald eyed with a rumored penchant for causing trouble for the last Knight Commander. Whether or not it was true, Alistair never saw. What he does remember is the elf's voice that was like honeyed silver. It is no wonder to him now that he thinks about it that Andromeda fell in love. 

"Are you going to be all right?" He whispers a she sits up, hair a wild mess about her head. 

With slightly trembling hands, she nods and fixes her hair. "I could be better. Thank you…" 

"You really loved him?" 

"I did, more than life itself it seemed," She tucks the pendant back into her armor. "No one will change that I loved him and he loved me." 

"Do you still want to go with me to Montsimmard?" 

She shrugs and grabs her blanket, "I do. We leave at dawn, so.. Get some sleep." 


	3. Hunting Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Montsimmard goes up in ashes, the fate of a turncloak.

Alistair waits on the borders of Montsimmard's fortress with ants crawling under his skin. 

Andromeda left him nearly an hour ago to seek out Bethany and Loghain, to bring them with her as they go back toward the Storm Coast and West Hill. He sits atop his roan mare that he names Buttercup because she doesn't respond to 'Horsey' anymore. All at once, he hears shouting from the gates of Montsimmard and spies Andromeda bolting for them with two horses behind her. With a kick, he sends Buttercup near Andromeda and takes the reins of the two horses that snort steam into the air. 

"Did you get them?" Alistair shouts as Andromeda mounts up on her black courser that rears back with a scream. Fire burns him, scorching his veins and peeling his skin as he hears the distinct crackle of magic unleashing itself with a hiss. "What was that?" 

"My sister!" Andromeda points to a blur that moves toward a grey gelding and Bethany swings up onto its back, gloves alight with amber flame that snaps at the air like an angry dragon. He remembers Bethany differently, her hair is bound up in a coil and her eyes burn like her magic. Not too far from her is Loghain. At first he finds it hard to believe that he's still alive. But Alistair's accusation is made clearer when Loghain cracks a shield across the face of a Orlesian Warden and then dodges a flame that crashes into metal, turning it white with heat. 

Alistair kicks his horse into a gallop when he hears Loghain shouting for them to leave. He needs nothing more, though he hears differently behind him. Boots clattering against stone, voices raspy from the cool air, magic sizzling in the air - it all is a rush for him. Buttercup throws back her head, charging headlong after Andromeda's horse. Within him, his blood is howling like a lunatic. He wants to claw at himself, peel away the skin and sinew to get at his bones because the itch runs that deep in him. 

He catches a glimpse of Bethany at his side, flame curling up in her hand before she throws it toward the fortress. He watches, stunned, as the tiny wisp of flame ripples with black smoke, growing bigger with each ripple until it’s the size of a boulder. The air cries as the flame tears through it like a hot knife through butter.. And then all that's left is a smoke plume so large and cloying that it burns his eyes. 

They keep galloping until the horses can no longer take it. They slow at outside of Val Foret and the moon is just cresting above the mountains, glistening like an opal on a diamond studded sky. 

Alistair glares at Andromeda as she slides down from the back of her horse. He slides down as well, "Do I _want_ to know what you did to anger them, or are you just going to tell me you walked in and they tried to kill you?" 

Andromeda's blue eyes narrow at him, "I didn't initially do that, idiot. I asked for Loghain and Bethany so I could visit with them, but Clarel demanded that I leave. When I refused…" 

"We were planning on leaving anyway," Bethany steps between them, fire glowing in her leonine eyes. Alistair sucks in a breath as the woman's magic dully hisses in the air. She gestures toward the smoke that swirls above Montsimmard, "Loghain and I are all ready traitors. Turncloaks. To Clarel, we're nothing but a thorn in her side." 

Alistair pauses but Andromeda is the one to speak up, her voice quavering, "What?" 

"We were branded traitors when the last meeting was upheld," Loghain pipes up. There is a slight limp to his gait, Alistair notices as Loghain steps into the semi circle that forms in the gaps between the horses. "Naerys and Grace both disagreed, this you know, but Bethany objected when Clarel posed the use of blood magic to her. It gave me the proper opportunity for me to speak up as well." 

Andromeda gives a look to her sister that speaks of disbelief, "You did this to yourself?" 

"I did," And in the younger Hawke's eyes there is a flame as she lifts her chin. " I don't want to kill anyone for the sake of chaining demons. It's outright madness to think that this is what happens when Wardens decide to go mad." 

For a brief moment, he dares to ask how badly if effects the duo. Answers flood him when he sees the lines in Loghain's face, ones that don't come from age alone but from something fouler. Even in bright Bethany something chips at her. He, himself, feels the itching of the Calling in the back of his mind, clawing its way out of him. 

"So, Clarel went through with it," Alistair whispers to himself. "Why would she?" 

"Her reasoning was to march into the Deep Roads with an army of demons to kill the Old Gods before they were corrupted," Bethany plops down where she lays her saddlebags. "It poses too many problems." 

"The demons part, or the part where mages kill innocents? Because honestly this is why mages sometimes make me angry," Andromeda snaps, though she catches the downturn of Bethany's mouth quick. "Not all mages are you, Beth." 

But it changes nothing. There is still the look of something that strikes nerves on her face, perhaps muted now. Maybe it is the fact that Bethany knew Orsino's tie to Andromeda? Or is it that Bethany knows what lies in her heart? That a hatred of mages is only skin deep and nothing more? He tries to forget that, but it's not an easy thing to take away. He understands why she sided with the Templars at the drop of a hat now. The way she speaks of Orsino \- the image is still in his mind - he can see the red highlight that encircles her jewel eyes. She was bitter and it lingers like scars. And he doesn't blame her for her ire or her hysteria, because being with someone for so long… They are a part of you. He knows it by the way she speaks, by the way that his brothers use to speak of the girls they were sweet on. There is a ruefulness that all lovers carry, its distinct like bitter chocolate. 

"We should get moving again. Those Wardens will be looking for us," Andromeda states, scaring him out of his thoughts. Loghain stares at her as if she's misplaced her mind. "What?" 

"We rode a good while away from Montsimmard," He explains, his voice heavy as he looks out over the waters of the river. "It will take them a day to send word out via ravens. We've time, Lady Hawke." 

Andromeda sighs, "Oh all right. If you think…" 

"It's not a think, I _know_ , I've been forced to work the rookery and Clarel likes taking her time," There is a crack of a whip in his voice, barbed and bitter. "My suggestion? We make camp here, leave tomorrow. We'll cover more ground that way. Alistair, follow me." 

He blinks owlishly after Loghain's moving figure as he passes between the horses and into the murky shadows of night. On nervous feet, he follows after the man he still quietly loathes in the recesses of his mind. He notices that his steps are quieter than Loghain's when they come to stop on a slight bluff that overlooks Val Foret. The older Warden is gruffer, strong in his standing with a setting of the shoulders, hands folded behind his back. And Alistair sees both the man that left Duncan and King Cailan behind, and the man that is a hero. 

"What did you need?" He tries to keep the bite out of his voice. Loghain looks over at his shoulder at him, the moonlight drags out the shadows on his face, making him truly look like a wraith than a man. 

"Come, stand beside me," Loghain gestures to the spot beside him with a crook of the finger. On careful feet, Alistair comes to stand beside a man that he doesn't know well enough. And as they side by side, Loghain glances over at him with his icy eyes, he glances down at the pallid light that skates across the land. "Tell me something, for I wish to know. You hate me still, do you not?" 

Alistair's mind skips, it's both a statement and a question. He braces a hand on his sword's pommel, "To be completely honest, only a bit." 

"A bit?" He echoes and makes a strange noise between a scoff and a chuckle. "Why do you think it's changed?" 

"I don't really know myself. To some degree, I understand why you did what you did. Yet on the other hand, I still hate you for leaving behind so many. So many innocents that died needlessly," The words stumble out of his mouth like a flooding river. "I try to fathom why sometimes." 

Loghain looks at him, eyes as stern as steel, "All soldiers know that war almost guarantees death, there is no way around such a fate. If I were to explain my reasoning, what closure would it give you? It would give you nothing because it cannot bring back the dead, Alistair. It will not bring back Duncan, Cailan, the men that died in Ostagar. As much as we wish every day." 

A frown pulls at his mouth. He hates admitting that Loghain is right, or perhaps he is the biggest fool for believing him. A younger version of himself might've shouted Loghain down, but he is older now, wiser even. He knows that wishing upon shooting stars and whispering secrets into the trees will bring back Duncan, he knows the man was too close to his Calling for him to live until now. And Cailan, as Naerys told him years ago, was fool enough to not heed the man that was born with a sword in his hand. Whether or not believes Naerys is behind him, because as Loghain says it cannot bring back the dead. 

"You're right…" Alistair manages, meeting the elder man's icy gaze with his hazel one. "Now, it's my turn to ask you something." 

Loghain's eyebrows raise, "Oh?" 

"You know Naerys a lot better than I do, so why'd she keep both of us alive?" 

For a moment, the man blinks before sighing warily, "Naerys believes, or so I take it, that killing me would be a waste, and exiling you would have been a stupid move." 

"But why?" 

"You were all ready a Grey Warden by the time of the Landsmeet, I wasn't. Exiling you, or worse executing you, would have been a waste of the short resources Naerys had on hand. So, she took Riordan's bait of using me and gave you to Warden-Commander Tallier," He explains with a vivid amount of detail, as if Naerys herself speaks before him. "She hates wasting men's lives for the sake of one thing over the other. And she certainly didn't see you as king, as Eamon wanted." 

"I think I would've made a poor king, honestly." There is lightness to his own voice, despite the humorless chuckle that follows. He thinks that he would have run Ferelden into a pit. "Anora's a better ruler, more aggressive, more tactful." 

Loghain grasps his shoulder tight, "Anora is not a martial leader though. She is no Warden, she does not bear the same burden. Don't be hard yourself because you are not like someone else." 

Alistair watches as Loghain's hand disappears off of his shoulder, the warmth gone. He sees now why Anora and Naerys cherish him so. The man is inspiring to a point, at least to him. _She didn't want to kill me or exile me because I was useful,_ he thinks to himself as the moon passes out of his view and into the grey clouds. 

~.~.~ 

Crestwood pains him. 

Its unlike the coastal region, where the salt is so thick on the air, you can taste it and everything is green as emerald silk. Crestwood's air alone makes Bethany cringe and Andromeda gets a crinkle to her nose. From atop the ridges, Alistair can see the vast lake that churns and sloshes against the ravine in which it sits with a green light bursting forth from its centre. 

"A rift," Bethany comments as a lavender bolt of lightning flashes at the lake. "Never seen one this close before." 

"We could get closer, but I've been hearing that dead things shamble out of the water," Andromeda says as they slow their horses down to a swift walk. 

"Dead things? Like corpses?" Alistair pipes up, trying not to stare at the strange eerie glow of the rift in the lake. Andromeda gives him a nod as they descend further into the valley. "So, what all have we learned about this mystical Corypheus besides being a darkspawn?" 

Bethany reins her gelding closer and hands him a single sheet of vellum that is decorated with scratches from a shaky handed quill, "It's all I found in the archives at Montsimmard. All it says that he may've been one of the magisters that broke into the Golden City." 

"Seems more than real, from what the Inquisition says," Andromeda adds. "Moreover, he seems capable of doing something, he burned Haven to cinders. Had something that looked like an Archdemon. This is according to Varric, of course." 

"Looked like?" Concern bubbles up in his belly, forcing hot bile to creep up the back of his throat. "If it _is_ an Archdemon, then why aren't there darkspawn everywhere? You know how they are, remember the last Blight?" 

Andromeda turns a glare over her shoulder at him, "Of course I remember! I was twenty six then! It was awful, Carver died because of a damned ogre. It was surprising that Beth and I handled it." 

"I get it," He puts up his hands. "I won't talk about it anymore. But really, if it were a Blight wouldn't we feel _something?_ " 

"Maybe Varric was wrong, Andy," Bethany kicks her horse beside her sister and Loghain take up her spot. "He's been overzealous with his imagination before." 

"This is different, Beth. He sounded worried about Corypheus and the dragon he has. Besides, I told him when he left Kirkwall that if I couldn't go play hero anymore. That was holding until everything went to hell." 

Bethany's voice raises a touch in volume, "You told him to not contact you?" 

"I had my reasons. I was Viscountess then, I was practically ruling Kirkwall while Aveline and Isabela kept an eye out for suspicious things. I gave Fenris charge of tracking slavers so we could clean up the amount of people missing… I didn’t have the time." 

"And now?" 

"Now it's probably back to being the hole in the wall that it was." 

"What of Isabela then? I'm surprised she didn't come with you." 

Andromeda sighs, shoulders slumping forward. Alistair knows now why it pains her, "Bela didn't want to come, Bethany. She wanted to go sailing again like the free thing she is. Once this is over, I might go join her." 

The younger Hawke giggles, "You hate the sea!" 

"I'll get over it." 

When they contact with a road, an actual road that had gravel and a cut out path, they ride past a great fortress that looms in the shadow of the rift with a lake surrounding it. Its sleek like a fish, made of cut grey stone with a dark shroud over it yet he can hear the faint clatter of boots on stone. 

"This place was flooded ten years ago," Loghain begins and Alistair focuses on his horse's ears. "Naerys and I came here once Urthemiel was dead to see for ourselves what damage had been done. Apparently the darkspawn flooded it Old Crestwood." 

Alistair scrunches up his face in disbelief, "Are you joking? Darkspawn are smart, but I don't think they're _that_ smart." 

"We've seen them do maddening things, Alistair. Who knows truly what happened?" He replies, all too questioning for Alistair's taste. Loghain is nothing short of a man that likes to make him think. Unless.. 

Her lowers his voice, "You don't actually think that happened, do you?" 

"No, but it's what the people say. I choose to be skeptical, they do not." 

Andromeda wheels her horse around, "Are we going the right way, Loghain?" 

He watches as the older man takes out a dusty map from his saddlebag, covering it with his cloak as to keep the rain off of it, and says, "We are. Follow that ravine and we'll be where need to be, Lady Hawke." 

Without skipping a beat, Andromeda and Bethany kick their horses into a gallop, leaving them in the wake of a rocks kicked up by horse hooves. Alistair spurs Buttercup into a light trot. He finds it strange still that Loghain is being as kind as he is. He thinks for a moment that Naerys might've tempered him some, but at the way he snaps at Andromeda sometimes is enough to remind him that she might've been tempered by him. He is still a hero - somewhere in his heart Alistair knows it - but this man has changed from ten years ago. He is more like a grandfather now, well worn around the edges but still as sharp as polished steel. Slowing Buttercup, he chooses to ride beside Loghain as to not let them get separated and die all the way to the cave where Andromeda black gelding stands. 

"What do you think will happen now?" Alistair asks to himself as he spies the sign of the Blind Bandits. " _Oh hello, don't mind us, just here to steal your hideout. Nothing big, but can you leave now?"_

Bethany laughs behind him, her cowl drawn over her dark chocolate hair. Her sister is not too far away, stalking into the room, crouched low like a cat ready to pounce. Her blades glimmer with runes that crackle in the damp air before she lunges. By the yell that follows from her leap, there is only man in the room. She comes back, cleaning her blades with an oil cloth, one dagger is in her mouth while the other shimmers in the dim light. 

Now begins the process that he dreads quietly. 


	4. The Ravens

Andromeda is gone when he wakes up. 

Bethany says that she leaves to find Varric, who is up in the Frostbacks with the Herald of Andraste. He knows nothing of the Herald, save that it’s a she and a Free Marcher. Which, when he thinks about it, isn't much at all. From what Loghain gathered from the Orlesians in Montsimmard, the people of Orlais found the Inquisitor rather… wild. He suspects that goes to everyone outside of Orlais. 

Alistair sits in the shadow of the cave's mouth, watching the rain drip off of the rocks and dribble on the ground. Bracing his back against the rock wall, he slouches down to the floor and draws his cowl over his head to hide his golden hair. Maker knows he's too obvious with the hair he has. In the back of his mind, whispers rake their nails across him. They pine for him, they sing a song that he can't ignore, it’s the same set of syllables, the same melody. Alistair grinds his teeth and huddles in on himself trying to force the voices out that bang around in their boney cage. 

"Stop it," He growls to himself. He wants to beat his head against a wall to make them stop. Yet he still hums, just low enough for only himself to hear. He sighs and begins to recite the Canticles of Benedictions off of memory alone. _"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker's will is written."_

"Alistair..?" Bethany's voice spooks him from his thoughts, the humming in his mind subduing itself for the time being. "Are you all right?" 

He swallows the thick, sore lump in his throat, "I'm fine.. Thank you, Beth." 

The younger Hawke sits across from him, pulling back her cowl to reveal dark curls that are made tight by the coil she had a few days ago. He sees much of Andromeda in Bethany, or perhaps it's their late mother that he sees, the one that Alistair heard of but never saw in person. It's in her cheekbones, the turn of her nose and the shape of her eyes. The only difference is that Andromeda wears more kohl around her eyes to give them shape. 

"Why were you saying the Chant of Benedictions? That's a very silly thing to be doing," There is a smile on her face, though by the way her eyes scrutinize him he feels like he's being picked apart by a wolf. 

"It's nothing," He lies through his teeth and brings a leg up to his chest, bracing his sword against a shoulder. "Why are you out here? Loghain bore you?" 

Bethany giggles, "He's napping." 

As much as he tries to make that look to some degree of cute or funny, he can't. Loghain brings up too many sour memories for him still, even though they've cleared the air so to speak. The immature part of him wants to hate him on Duncan's behalf, despite knowing what it knows about his mentor. Death merely isn't something that can be easily let go, he has found from years of pondering. 

"I know the Calling is bothering you, Alistair," Bethany's voice startles him out of his thoughts and he blinks over at her. She sounds remarkably like Andromeda as she plays with a brown curl that hangs between her eyes, "I can't even silence it, and I'm a mage." 

"You've tried?" 

She turns the curl over and into the rest of her hair, "Many times. I thought I could at least put a muffling spell on it, but that would mean addling the rest of my brain function." 

His gut clenches at the thought of little Bethany being stricken dumb trying to quiet this, "You thought that far? What did your sister think?" 

"What do you think Andy said? She was furious! She said I was an idiot for thinking about doing that," She brings her knees up to her chest, mimicking him to some degree. "To be honest, I know why she thinks like that as much as she hates admitting it." 

"She told me about Orsino." 

Bethany sighs and it rebounds off of the walls, "She always leaves out the part where she explains what they were like." 

"Wait, she's done this before?" 

She nods, "She told Isabela about him. She broke down in tears and went hysterical. Happens every time because it.. really scared her. Orsino meant everything to her.. My sister had flings before, but nothing like him." 

Alistair lowers his leg to the floor and then crosses his legs, "What were they like?" 

Bethany begins to play with her hair again and she chews her lower lip, "They were happy… He didn't seem the type to love so freely, especially with Meredith always snooping for reasons to get him in trouble, but Andromeda found ways so they could see each other. She.. trusted him with everything and then he went and squandered it." 

"Is that what you believe?" 

"I didn't say anything like…" 

"Bethany Hawke," He glares at her and her shoulders roll back, spine stiffening just so. "Andromeda told you to say that, didn't she? 

A nod solidifies his answer, "Andy blames herself, she blames all of Kirkwall. Its why she left it in the first place." 

"Because it was awful?" 

"Because it brought back too many bad memories for her. According to Jean-Marc, she still goes to the Gallows and just.. sits. They erected a statue of Orsino's dragons there, and he said that she has hung a necklace of green beads around each head." Bethany sighs, voice quavering. "People thought it was defacing public property until they noticed that my sister was doing and decided to just leave it be." 

"I guess he meant more than anyone thought?" 

She rests her head on the wall behind her, "Yeah." 

~.~.~ 

When Andromeda rides back, she returns with four other riders. Lady Hawke is a siren, beautiful to look at from afar but the minute she draws near someone, they can see the scratches, blood, dirt, kohl running down her alabaster cheeks. She tosses her cloak at the floor and storms down the cave, leaving her horse to a small, hazel eyed figure that is scrambling to help a mage down from his saddle. 

"Hey, Boss, where do we tie the reins at?" Alistair guesses that would be the Qunari that the Inquisition has. He is twice Alistair's size and there are black tattoos on the man's arms that are t he size of tree trunks. He is struggling with tying up the beastly horse that he has. The little woman rushes over, takes the reins from the Qunari's hands and does the work for him. "Or that works too." 

Alistair watches as she turns her hazel eyes - he realizes that they look more gold than brown under the light of Bethany's lamp - on him. By the distant thrum he hears as the tiny woman passes him, a bow is slung over her shoulder and there is a knife tucked away at her right side, he can tell this woman is the Inquisitor. Two men follow her; the Qunari and a man whose appearance reminds Alistair of the Antivan people. 

"Loghain, please put down your sword!" Andromeda's voice rises from the back of the cave. Turning, he sprints down the hallway and nearly crashes into the Qunari. Though his view is slightly inhibited by the mage companion of the Inquisitor's and the Qunari, Alistair can see a boy sitting in front of Loghain \- perched perfectly - on the table they had been using for maps. "Inquisitor, please tell your… friend to get down." 

The Inquisitor casts off her hood, revealing ruddy brown hair that curls with the damp at the ends. She extends a hand and says in a quiet voice, "Cole, you're upsetting the Wardens. Why don't you hop down?" 

"Yes, I shouldn't be here," The boy - Cole's his name - whispers. " _Monster._ _Writhing, burning underneath my skin. Emerald eyes bleed, guts grip, heart clenches. He is dying.."_

And with that, Andromeda lets out a howl and one of her knives flash in the firelight as is hisses from its sheath. Alistair's heart leaps into his throat when the _hiss_ and _snap_ of a barrier erupting between Hawke and Inquisitor comes. Blinking, he sees the glimmering glamour of light threatens to break with a spider web of hair thin cracks. 

The Inquisitor pulls Cole aside and looks at her mage companion, "Dorian, put down the barrier." 

The mage lowers his hand and the barrier dissolves with a sizzle, prompting Andromeda's knife to clatter onto the floor. The Inquisitor grabs a hold of the boy, whose eyes are sullen and his pale gold hair hangs in his face. "I am _so_ sorry, Lady Hawke. Cole doesn't.." 

"What is that _thing_?" Andromeda demands and Alistair wriggles through the gaps between the Qunari and the door to reach her. She is feral, eyes blown wide and fear rattling her. When he tries to comfort her, Loghain grabs a hold of his shoulder to pull him to his side. 

"His name is Cole. He.." The Inquisitor pauses, looking over at the young man beside her. He looks a few years younger than she, and the wide brim of his hat obscures Alistair's view of him. Yet as he looks at the boy, he can't help the overwhelming clench of his gut. 

The boy twiddles his thumbs, "I want to help." 

"Bullshit! I want it gone!" Andromeda shouts, her voice raising a few octaves. "I don't know what that thing is, or how it came to you, but I want it gone!" 

"Andy!" Bethany slips between the mage and the Qunari. The younger Hawke clutches onto her sister's middle, acting as a barrier. "Andromeda, he's a spirit. He won't hurt you!" 

Andromeda's blue eyes turn to a frosty flame that scours anyone that looks at her. As Bethany tries to calm her sister, Alistair steals a glance over at the Inquisitor. She's holding the hand of the young man and there is pain flushing across her face, turning her pale. The Inquisitor is a tiny thing, she comes to her mage's shoulder and she pulls at her gloves or plucks at her bowstring while Andromeda froths at the mouth toward Cole. Alistair can't blame her for being anxious. 

He nudges Loghain, who follows his glance to the Inquisitor. She is worrying her lips, hovering too close to her companions. He breaks away from Loghain to see to her. And despite what his mind says that approaching her might be a bad idea - because the way her mage's barrier erected without a incantation says something of the level of skill. Or maybe it was the Qunari that looms over her shoulder like death itself, his shadow alone is enough to tower over her. 

"Inquisitor Trevelyan, I presume?" He enquires, keeping his distance between himself and them. The Inquisitor blinks up at him with her gold-hazel eyes and nods. "I'm Warden Alistair and this is Warden Loghain Mac Tir. We're deeply sorry about the incident with Lady Hawke." 

"Cole is quite adept with people," The mage comments and the Inquisitor giggles. "It seems to me that our dear Hawke is having troubles with comprehending Cole's eloquent style of speech." 

"Sorry," Cole murmurs from beside the Inquisitor. 

She touches the man's arm, "It's all right Cole. No one is blaming you for being who you are. You are the Alistair that fought in the Fifth Blight then?" 

Alistair chuckles humorlessly, "Actually, that was Loghain's place. Not mine." 

"Then you..? What happened to you?" 

He manages a lopsided grin, "What you see, my lady, is the product of exile. I was sent to the Free Marches." 

"That explains the twinge I hear," The Inquisitor smiles at him. She has a maiden's smile, innocent and true, blossoming from her cheeks. "Shall we speak of Corypheus on the road? I'd hate for you all to catch your deaths in here." 

"I think that would be an excellent idea, my Lady Inquisitor." 


End file.
